Free The Last Time I Died by Joe Nelms Page A

doctor’s first line of defense does her part, attempting to slow the old boy’s progress with the bold, efficient courtesy of a career receptionist who has dealt with the mentally volatile for years.
    —Sir, can I help you?
    Naturally, she is ignored and our man proceeds without hesitation leaving her in the modern predicament of wondering when physical force is acceptable.

24
    I can’t do this alone.
    But the only qualified professional I know is that panooch psychiatrist I saw last week or whenever. He seemed like a smart guy for a pompous ass, so I figure he can help. He mentioned repressed memories right before I left. He must know something about it. More than I do.
    I’m still recovering so I move like a caveman. Social conventions are meaningless. What do I care how people think of how I look? I have no manners. I am bereft of tact. I am an amorphous id in jeans and a tee shirt moving quickly through structures of glass and marble with a single focus. That’s fine if you’d like to watch and point or perhaps take a video of me with your phone. Tell your kids about the weirdo you saw later when you sit at the dinner table. Laugh it up with the boys in accounting. I don’t belong to that world anymore.
    His secretary is on my heels, even though I’m already opening the door to his office.
    —Excuse me,
sir
!
    I walk in to find him sitting behind his know-it-all desk looking at his next patient’s file. He’s wearing a neck brace. What a pussy.
    —Sir, you’re going to have to make an appointment if you want—
    The caveman ignores the worried little mosquito flitting behind him.
    —We have to talk.
    —I’m sorry, Doctor. I tried to stop him.
    Arnold Fucking Rosen indicates it’s okay. He appears to think he has the situation in hand, despite his neck brace. Like he was waiting for me even though I know he wasn’t.
    The secretary stands behind me for a second, I assume making wide-eyed faces at Arnold, encouraging him to get out of this situation. He’s so busy taking me in and translating that to opportunity he won’t look at her.
    —We’re fine, Elise. Thank you.
    Finally, she backs out but I know she’s already dialing nine, one, and preparing to hit that last one upon the slightest provocation.
    He looks at me like I’m fascinating. I haven’t even thought about checking a mirror lately. I must look like a maniac. Maybe that will work for me. Look at me, Doc! Can’t you see the potential? Think big. Think book deal. Arnold versus the Caveman. It’s got a nice ring to it.
    —Hello, Christian.
    —The other night. I almost died. And as I’m fading out, I saw something. Something important.
    I hold up the sketch. The one with the eyes and the Thank you. It shakes in my hand when I hold it up, but only a little. In the time honored style of Arnold Rosen, I get no response.
    —It’s my father. I told you I couldn’t remember anything before I was nine years old. But I did. This is it. My father’s face. From when I was eight. And I know there’s more in there.
    I’m pointing at my head. In there. That’s where there’s more. In the caveman’s melon.
    Rosen glances at the drawing. He takes his sweet time before he answers.
    —I’m sorry. I was told your employment at Hunter & Partners had been terminated.
    —So?
    —So they pay my fee. I had an arrangement with Harry.
    —I’ll pay.
    —I’m five hundred dollars an hour. Up front. And this type of therapy could take years.
    I’d pay five thousand an hour for this. I wonder how fast I can sell my apartment. Maybe I can sign it over to him. It’s still worth something and I think I made my last mortgage payment. I’ll sleep in the park.
    —I could…
    —Christian, my schedule is already full. And honestly, I was doing Harry a favor.
    Dr. Rosen rubs his neck through the brace. His other hand is under his desk and I wonder if he has a gun. I wonder if he bought a gun because of the quality time we spent together. Is that what